Friendship with a Vampire
by JellyBean30
Summary: When House called Wilson a 'functional vampire', what if he was closer to the truth than he realized? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After reading a fic with a fairy-tale theme, it occurred to me when House called Wilson a 'functional vampire', what if he was closer to the truth than he realized. What if Wilson actually was a vampire? This is definitely an alternate universe story, and it may be terrible, but sometimes when you get an idea in your head you just have to go with it.**

** Disclaimer: I don't own them, can't even borrow them.**

**Spoilers: Not sure yet, so all say spoilers for all episodes, because I really don't know what I'll try to work in yet!  
**

Chapter 1

"Tell them my name's not Wilson," he demanded.

"His name's not Wilson, and he's screwed up worse than me," House called into the living room. Wilson confessed what House wanted to hear, and turned to leave.

"Thanks for the game guys, don't think I'll be coming back," Wilson said as he picked up his jacket and practically ran to the door. Of course he wouldn't be back, not when he'd come so close to being exposed.

"You're a functional vampire," he heard from behind him, and nearly stumbled. He continued walking, hoping that House wouldn't follow him. Of course, he did. Wilson turned on him and changed the argument, made it about House and his shortcomings instead of solely about him.

He couldn't afford to have House suspicious of him. Not House. His secret was easy enough to keep from everyone else, but House wasn't like everyone else. Once House was bent on finding something out, it got found out. End of story. Wilson just couldn't let that happen.

Luckily, House's phone rang and a problem with his patient diverted his attention. He hoped that House would dismiss this latest indiscretion as a symptom of the psychological ailments he had decided Wilson had, and not look any further.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once they'd arrived at the hospital, House asked Wilson to talk to the patient and the father again. Wilson thought it was odd that House hadn't commented on Wilson's uncanny knowledge of Christianity, seeing as he believed Wilson to be Jewish. It was just one more thing in a long list of things Wilson was glad House hadn't questioned him on.

His job done, Wilson went back to his office to be alone. He thought about House, and thought for probably the thousandth time that his existence might be easier if they weren't friends. This would happen once a week or so, and Wilson would go through all the reasons why the pros outweighed the cons.

Funny, most people thought there couldn't possibly be pros to having House as a friend. And for a normal person, that might just be true. But Wilson was anything but normal. And he was anything but a person.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, thanks for all the reviews. This is another short chapter, just some filler while I figure out where this story might go. I promise more soon! R&R!!**

Chapter 2

House sat quietly in his office, tossing his red tennis ball back and forth. His patient was diagnosed, and all was well with the world. Okay, that was total b.s., but it was quiet. House was looking at the TV, although it was not on. He was thinking about Wilson.

Funny how he knew all that stuff about saints and heaven and God. For a Jewish guy, he sure knew a lot about Christianity. House pondered this little anomaly. It was just one of many that had begun to bother him lately about his friend. There seemed to be so many things that just couldn't be explained, even if he was as emotionally screwed up as House suspected.

Why did he know all that stuff? House thought back and came up empty. His first two ex-wives had been Jewish. His latest wife was a Christian, Presbyterian, House remembered from the service he'd had to sit through. But his marriage to her had lasted barely two years, hardly long enough for Wilson to get that much of an education in Christianity. If anything, it had seemed to House the other way around, with them both just agreeing to respect each other's holidays without a lot of fuss.

And what was this whole thing with him and Grace? I mean, the guy was emotionally crippled for sure, but sleeping with, living with a patient? That was just stupid. And Wilson was anything but stupid. It made no sense, even for him. What was worse, Wilson had been lying to him about it and he couldn't tell. Wilson was right, that was what really pissed him off about it.

After a brief talk with Chase, House gathered up his things and left his office. He and Wilson made their way out. Wilson told him Grace was going to Italy and he was moving out.

"Are you moving back in with me?" House asked.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," Wilson answered.

"But we're okay," House stated, gesturing between them.

"House you are," Wilson paused, "as God made you." He walked away and left House to his thoughts.

House thought about what Wilson had said upstairs before they left. Something about being able to believe in something and still failing to live up to it. He wondered what Wilson, boy wonder oncologist, kind to children and puppies, thought he wasn't living up to. Interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The weeks passed and House's increased leg pain preoccupied him too much to watch Wilson for new quirks. In fact, he noticed precious little about anyone else during that time. And then he got shot, and everything changed.

When he came back, Wilson was different. His attitude, his demeanor and even the way he treated House. It was all changed somehow. At first House thought it was just Wilson being overprotective. But even at his most protective, Wilson would never have tried to force House to change who he was. And yet that was exactly what Wilson was doing.

During that all too short time when his leg felt good, Wilson was preachy and pushy. He tried to force House to be happy, realize how lucky he was to be alive. It was annoying, even more annoying that Wilson's usual harping.

Wilson even went so far as to offer House pain pills to keep him running. That was definitely new. He'd never just offered them before. And certainly not without a lecture about how they were addictive and running his life and would one day ruin his entire existence and what few things he cared about. Nope, he just walked into House's office and tossed him the bottle.

"Let's go for a run," he said. House refused. After Wilson left, he realized that even with all the preaching and the pushing him to change himself, Wilson had been very guarded lately. Almost like he was hiding something from House.

House kept a very close eye on Wilson for the next few weeks. They talked, of course. And still had lunch together whenever possible. But House noticed a definite change in Wilson. If House hadn't been paying such close attention, he would have just assumed that since Wilson was now separated he didn't have as much to talk about.

One day in the lab, while House was busy annoying Cameron, he swore he saw Wilson staring at his neck. He thought at first that Wilson was staring at his scar. His head was still a little fuzzy from the drugs he'd inhaled in the patient's room. But later he realized that the scar was on the other side of his neck. And the more House thought about it, the more he didn't like the look in Wilson's eye while he was staring at him.

Now intrigued, House spent the next few days watching Wilson very carefully. He had even taken to sitting on the balcony in the dark to he could watch Wilson in his office. He was just about to dismiss that look as an aberration or a trick of his drugged out mind when he accidentally saw the most disturbing thing he'd ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It had never really seemed that strange to House that Wilson would keep a few IV bags of blood in the fridge in his office. If he thought about it all, House would have assumed Wilson kept them for some testing reason. After all, it was no stranger than some of the things in House's refrigerator. In fact, even House wasn't sure what some of the things in his refrigerator were.

But when he saw Wilson take a bag of blood out of his fridge, heat it up in his tiny microwave oven and then pour it into his coffee cup, House began to have some serious concerns about his friend's sanity. Still hoping that Wilson was using the blood for some experiment, maybe to watch a chemical reaction in blood that was body temperature, House was appalled, to say the least, when Wilson began sipping it.

Having been a doctor for over twenty years, House had thought he had no gag reflex left. He was wrong, he discovered that night. He gagged horribly while he watched his best friend drink a unit of warm blood like it was hot chocolate. Disturbed and more than a little frightened, House slipped stealthily back into his office and then limped out of the hospital as fast as his leg would allow.

He sat and tortured his piano for hours that night, turning over the possibilities in his mind again and again. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't believe that Wilson was crazy. He would have to be really crazy to do that without some rational reason, and that's the sort of crazy that doesn't go unnoticed.

No. Whatever else, Wilson was a rational man. There must be a reason, no matter how bizarre it was. He thought about Wilson's strange knowledge of Christianity. Maybe he was part of some cult? Could this be some weird religious ritual that House had never heard of? House pondered that possibility for some time before discarding it.

As the clock struck midnight, a truly fantastic idea occurred to House. So incredible, that he almost doubted his own sanity for a moment. Could he be? House rolled the idea around his mind the way he frequently rolled a Vicodin over his tongue, letting the bitterness take over. It was crazy, but so was what he had seen.

At 1am, House slammed the lid shut on the piano keys. This was getting him nowhere and fast. There was only one solution. He would just have to ask him. He was sure there was some reasonable explanation. There had to be. Because House could simply not accept that his best friend could be a vampire.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Arriving at work early the next morning, House found Wilson standing outside on the balcony they shared. House was somewhat relieved to see Wilson standing the sunlight. He dropped his bag by his desk and walked out onto the balcony to join his friend.

"Morning," House said.

"Morning," Wilson returned. He seemed perfectly normal. House looked him over carefully, although for what he wasn't quite sure.

"Do I have something on my tie?" Wilson asked. "Is my fly open?"

"No," House said. Now that he was here, the whole thing just seemed so ridiculous. Still, his curiosity was not be sated by a simply 'oh just forget about it'. He decided maybe he'd hint around a bit. "So, working late last night?"

"Why do you ask?" Wilson said, and House became suspicious. If Wilson had nothing to hide, why not simply say yes?

"I noticed your lights on when I was leaving," House said. "You looked, pretty involved in what you were doing."

"Tough case," Wilson said in an offhand way, but his eyes slid out toward the trees.

"Right. So, what did you have for dinner last night?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry. I was hoping maybe you packed some leftovers for lunch," House said, watching Wilson.

"I, uh, wasn't hungry last night," Wilson said, looking now at his shoes. House knew he was lying, of course. He'd seen what Wilson had for dinner last night, and it wasn't Chef Boyardee. Could have been a chef though, he supposed.

"Well, maybe I'll just go take a look in your fridge. See what I can scare up," House said, making to climb over the wall.

"I'd rather you didn't," Wilson said. "I've got a patient coming in. You made the last one cry."

"I make all of them cry," House retorted. "Why do really want me to stay out of your office?"

"Do I need a reason?" Wilson asked.

"Today, you do," House said.

"I'm meeting Cameron for our daily make-out session. She'd really rather it was you, but I'm not into threesomes. Okay?" Wilson turned and walked back to his office, locking the door behind him.

House watched as he picked up the coffee mug from his desk and sipped it. He wondered briefly what was inside. Subtly was obviously not going to work. He would have to get a little more creative. He grinned. Creative was his specialty.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The following day, Wilson began to worry about House. When he came in that morning, he looked like hell. More so than usual, if that was possible. In fact, it occurred to Wilson that he looked a bit like Wilson had the day after he'd been turned. Of course, Wilson hadn't seen another vampire since that day, and that had been more years ago than he cared to count.

He checked in with House as usual, and immediately noticed an odd smell. Now, odd smells and House in and of themselves weren't completely unheard of, but this one Wilson swore he recognized. It smelled like that chicken dish House loved from the Chinese restaurant. He must have ordered it last night, and then come into work wearing the same clothes? No, Wilson thought, that wasn't what he was wearing yesterday.

"Rough night?" Wilson asked.

"Research," House answered. "I barely slept."

"Research. Wow, I'm impressed. Need a hand?" Wilson reached for the bag of books House had laid on his desk, and House jumped, grabbing the books away from him.

"No, thanks," House said. Noticing the look in Wilson's eyes, he elaborated. "It's not as much fun solving the puzzle if somebody else puts in the last few pieces."

"Okay. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Lunch later?" Wilson asked. House nodded, waiting for him to leave. Wilson gave him a strange look, but left.

Hours later, Cameron, Foreman and Chase came into the office, amused to see House surrounded by thick text books, hair standing on end and in every direction. It reminded Foreman of his college days, maybe three days before a huge research paper was due.

"Research project?" Chase asked. "I'm surprised you didn't just have us do it for you."

"It's a personal project," House retorted, tersely. The last thing he needed was the three of them, especially Cameron, finding out what he was researching. She'd think he was nuts and go running straight to Wilson. House guessed that if Wilson was drinking blood out of the fridge, he probably wouldn't eat Cameron, but still. He supposed he'd feel marginally guilty if she turned up dead.

"The Book of Vampires, The Vampire in Lore and Legend," Chase read off as he lifted books from the desk. "What sort of research project are you working on?"

"I'm writing a screenplay," House snarked. "Can I have those back?"

"Well, since we obviously have no cases, I'm going to the ER. They can always use a hand." Foreman said, pausing at the door. "Chase, you coming?" Chase dropped the books he was holding back on the desk and walked out, leaving Cameron behind.

"These books are worthless," Cameron commented, picking up the books Chase had looked at.

"No, actually they're worth about $15.95 a piece." House turned away from Cameron and picked up another book, making a note on the legal pad in his lap. Cameron watched him for a minute, as he flipped pages, his pen in his mouth, pausing only to scribble the occasional note. She removed her prescription pad from her pocket and began writing.

"Cameron, I don't need an anti-psychotic, or whatever you're prescribing there," House warned.

"You'll need to see an antique book dealer for these two," Cameron said, ripping off the script and dropping it on his desk. She left without giving House an opportunity to respond. He picked up the script she'd dropped and saw book titles. He lifted his head and looked at the door she'd just exited, and wondering what sort of Twilight Zone world he'd dropped into where his best friend was a vampire and Cameron was a vampire expert.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Issues, issues with logging on and posting here. So, here's two chapters to make up for it. Please R&R:) **

Chapter 7

Wilson popped his head into House's office at about lunchtime. He noticed the array of books strewn about the desk, and was curious. He also noticed that odor again. It was even stronger than this morning. Odd, if House had just smelled of that Chinese take-out, it should have been wearing off not getting worse.

House heard Wilson open the door, and panicked. He'd never get all these books off the desk before Wilson saw one of them. But, he wasn't the most brilliant doctor in the hospital for nothing. Thinking quickly, he picked up his tennis ball and threw it as hard as he could at Wilson's head.

"Think fast!" he shouted, only to be crushed when Wilson reached up almost lazily and caught the ball a mere half-inch before it broke his nose.

"Ate my Wheaties this morning," Wilson quipped, tossing the ball lightly back to House. House caught it and replaced it on the desk. Make-a-cat-jealous reflexes, House thought to himself. He stood up and grabbed his cane, limping quickly toward the door. Maybe he could get Wilson out of the office before he saw the book titles.

Wilson seemed perfectly happy to leave, but crinkled his noise when House slid past him into the hall. That smell was even stronger now. As they walked down the hall to the elevators, Wilson thought he recognized it again.

"New cologne?" Wilson asked. He wondered if House had bought it at a garage sale.

"Eau d'ail," House replied. Wilson balked, he knew. Why else would he be rubbing himself with garlic? Well, luckily for Wilson that was just folklore. Garlic actually had no effect on vampires at all, except maybe a little heartburn now and again.

"I love garlic as much as the next guy, but it's probably going overboard to bathe in it," Wilson commented, hoping his voice came out as light as it sounded in his head. House cocked his head, but made no reply. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. Wilson was pleased. Maybe if he debunked one of two of the myths he was sure House had heard he could throw him off track.

"Feel like eating outside today? Channel Six says it's the last sun we'll see for a week," Wilson suggested.

"You want to eat outside in the sun?" House asked.

"You know," Wilson said, making his voice slightly lower in a passable imitation of House, "this conversation is going to take a lot longer if you repeat everything I say in question form."

"Shut up," House muttered, feeling a little silly. Okay, so Wilson drank blood. What was wrong with him, deciding he was a vampire? That was just crazy. The elevator stopped a floor above the cafeteria level and a young couple got on. House and Wilson shifted over to make room, and Wilson and House both noticed a rather large crucifix the man was wearing. Wilson edged closer to House almost imperceptibly, almost.

As soon as the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Wilson sprung out. House limped out more slowly, thinking. He had been hoping to avoid this, but he was going to have to try something a little more drastic.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

House spent the next few days trying to come up with a more dramatic way to determine whether or not Wilson was really a vampire. The trouble was, as far as all the dmn books seemed to say, there were a thousand different ways to check, or none at all. And the only absolutes when it came to vampires were the three preferred methods for killing them. Most unfortunately, the three sure fire ways to kill a vampire, staking through the heart, decapitation and burning, would also kill anybody else. Not exactly what you'd call helpful.

Since he already knew Wilson wasn't bothered by garlic, had a reflection in a mirror (although the stares he'd gotten in following Wilson into four different men's rooms over the past week or so almost weren't worth checking that one out), House needed something more concrete.

He knew Wilson was uncomfortable around a crucifix, or so he thought. Remembering Wilson's reaction to the man in the elevator, House had bought a crucifix in the hospital gift shop and slipped it into his pocket. Later that day, when Wilson was busy paying for their lunches, House had fished it from his pocket and dropped it on the floor.

"You dropped this," Wilson said, picking it up and handing it back to House. House just stared at him for a few seconds before taking the crucifix by the chain and slipping it back into his pocket. "What are you doing with that anyway?"

"Cameron dropped it this morning. Just haven't seen her yet to give it back," House said quickly. Too quickly, he realized as Wilson gave him an odd, suspicious look. Cameron was an atheist.

"Okay," Wilson said. He didn't want to push any further. He was really beginning to think that House suspected. He'd been successful for years in hiding what he was, to have someone else find out, especially House, scared Wilson.

After lunch, House went back to his office and took out his research. Scratching the crucifix off the list, House thought back over the incident in the elevator. Maybe it was his cologne, House mused. Why did I automatically jump to the crucifix? House grimaced. The only other option he had left was the holy water.

"House?" Cameron's voice interrupted as she leaned her head into his office from the hall. "The patient's out of surgery. We were wrong, the tumor was benign."

"Get everyone else in here," House ordered. He barely looked up from his notes. He sensed Cameron watching him, and looked up. "What?"

"There is one way to tell," Cameron offered. House looked at her, impassive. He didn't want Cameron to know what he was doing. "Why don't you just ask him?" She was gone before House could reply. How did she know it was a him?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

House finally decided the last and only remaining test he could come up with was to splash Wilson with some holy water. The look he got from Chase when he asked how he could get some was priceless; the vial of holy water was not. House, however, considered it worth every penny if it meant figuring this out without having to ask Wilson.

Wilson was already acting cagey, and House had a hard time pinning him down in one spot where he could discretely sprinkle him with a few drops. He didn't want to actually toss it at him, in case it worked. From what House had read, if Wilson really was a vampire and they really did get burned by holy water, throwing it him would be about the equivalent of throwing a vial of hydrochloric acid at somebody. That wasn't exactly the effect House was going for. And even if he did it privately, melting flesh was messy.

One would think it would be easy enough to sneak up behind a guy and nonchalantly drip some holy water onto the back of his neck, but one would be wrong. House spent nearly two days shadowing Wilson around the hospital with his hand perpetually in his pants. This garnered plenty of strange looks from nurses, orderlies and even a few patients, but what could House do? Explain that he wasn't fondling himself, just keeping his vial of holy water in easy reach in case he should corner Wilson alone somewhere? Better to let them think he was just a perverted old man.

Finally, House came upon Wilson at the nurse's station, his head buried in file, feverishly making notes. House walked up behind him slowly, trying to fumble the vial of holy water out of his pocket. He succeeded in approaching Wilson undetected, but couldn't get the vial out of his pants. He managed to remove the lid, and was just sliding it out of his pants when Wilson turned suddenly and the two men collided. 

The vial, not being fully released from House's pockets, spilled its contents and soaked House's jeans. Wilson looked at him strangely before walking off without comment. House stared at the nurse behind the desk until she blushed and scampered off, which took all of about five seconds. After all, how often was it that you saw Dr. House sneak up behind Dr. Wilson, bump into him and then come away with wet jeans and his hands in his pants? This would surely be the story of the month. 

Frustrated, House limped quickly back to his office. Despite the glass walls, he didn't notice Wilson sitting in the yellow chair until he'd sat in his chair and flung the now empty vial of holy water onto the desk. Their eyes locked.

Wilson leaned forward and picked it up, turning it over and over slowly in his hands.

"I think maybe we should talk," Wilson said. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Okay," House answered. "Let's talk." He then fell silent. Wilson sighed. He had known this day would come eventually. I mean, let's face it, you just can't keep secrets from Gregory House. It was only a matter of time before he was found out. Actually, he was more than a little impressed with himself that he'd been able to keep it a secret from House for this long. Of course, a hundred years or so of practice did give him a little edge.

"Okay, I'll start," Wilson offered. "Since when do you start carrying a vial of holy water in your pants?"

"Since I accidentally saw my best friend drinking the blood in his fridge," House countered. Now that it was out there, he wasn't going to pull any punches. This was some seriously bizarre stuff and he wanted an answer.

"When did you see that?" Wilson asked.

"Couple weeks ago," House answered, making a mental note that Wilson hadn't denied it. He waited. "Trying to cut back on the caffeine so late at night? Opting for a little O-Neg instead?"

"Actually I prefer A-Positive," Wilson retorted. House smirked, but the smirk quickly faded. Was he serious?

"Okay," House drawled, not quite sure what to say next. This wasn't really getting him the answers he wanted, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to ask. "And you warmed it because?"

"Cold blood?" Wilson asked, shuddering. "I don't like oatmeal because it's too lumpy. Blood clots when it gets cold, warming it thins it out. Who wants to drink clots? I think I'd gag."

"You think you'd gag?" House asked in disbelief. "How do you think I felt watching you slurp down an IV bag of blood like a cup of hot cocoa? What the hell is going on?" He finally blurted it out, unable to contain himself any longer.

"I don't believe for a minute that you haven't already figured this out. Nobody follows a guy into the bathroom for two days to check his reflection, smears himself with garlic and starts carrying holy water unless he thinks he met a vampire," Wilson said calmly, brushing some lint from his pants casually as though they were discussing the weather.

"That would be crazy," House said, cautiously.

"And correct," Wilson said, letting his eyes meet House's. House just stared back. His mind was spinning. His best and only friend in the world had just told him he was a vampire. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"So, have you met Dracula?" 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Wilson laughed. Typical House, he thought. He knew House was a jerk, but he really believed he could trust House to keep this secret. He'd gotten pretty good at reading people over his long existence, and if there was one thing Wilson knew House loved, it was knowing stuff other people didn't know. It made him feel special.

"This is funny? You're a blood sucking creature of the night, a soul-less walking cadaver, and you're laughing? Wow, so much for the whole dark, brooding evil monster thing," House complained. Wilson just laughed again.

"Okay, I know you. You have a million questions to ask me, and I'll answer them all, but we've got to get out of here. I don't need any more people finding out," Wilson said, standing. House stood also, anxious to get some information.

"Just tell me one thing; Cuddy's a witch, right?" House asked, and Wilson laughed some more. 

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House and Wilson sat on the couch in House's apartment, picking at the Chinese food they'd ordered. House had begun peppering Wilson with questions nearly the second they'd left the hospital, but Wilson had refused to answer until they were somewhere quiet. Then he started talking.

"Look, I'll give you the really quick version of the 'How I Became a Vampire' story, and then you can ask me anything you want. It was the early 1900s, I was a medical student. I was living in New York. Just after I graduated and starting working in hospital, World War I started. I joined the Army, because I was young and idealistic and they needed doctors. I was overseas a long time, it seemed like a lifetime. 

When I came home, I felt very out of place. All my colleagues at the hospital had moved on to their own practices and most of the staff at the hospital when I came back to work were much younger than myself. I didn't really fit in, I had no friends. I started spending a lot of time in bars. I met a woman. She was older and very attractive. 

One night, after weeks of sitting and drinking with her at the bar, she agreed to come home with me. I honestly don't remember very clearly what happened once we got back to my apartment. I remember taking her to the bedroom, but then it's all sort of a blur. When I woke up the morning, I had those two tell-tale puncture wounds on my neck. 

I didn't really think much about it, just counted myself lucky that she hadn't robbed me blind. It wasn't until that afternoon, during a shift at the hospital, that I realized my heart wasn't beating. And the smell of blood was everywhere. I went back to the bar, but she wasn't there. I went home, and I found a note. It was from her, welcoming me into the fold as she called it," Wilson stopped, not sure where to take the story from there. He wasn't sure how much House really wanted to know.

"That's the crappiest story I've ever heard," House said. Wilson smiled. "How old were you when it happened?"

"Late twenties," Wilson answered. "Its part of what gives me those boyish good looks you're always commenting on. I was barely a man when it happened, and this is how I'm going to look for the rest of my, well, not life, the rest of my death, I guess."

"How are you still working? You went to medical school in like 1912, literally," House said.

"I went back. A couple times now actually. You just need a new identity, which isn't really that hard to come by," Wilson answered.

"But why?" House asked.

"What else am I going to do with eternity?" Wilson asked. "I like my work, I always have. And the advances in medical science I've seen are incredible. I look forward to seeing where we'll be in another hundred years." House nodded. That would be interesting.

"Do you sleep in a coffin?" House asked.

"No," Wilson laughed. "That's pure Hollywood."

"Turn into a bat?"

"Nope."

"And the garlic and crosses and all that stuff?" House asked.

"As far as I know, and I've never tested this stuff, the only things I'm susceptible to are a stake to the heart, decapitation and burning. I'm not all that anxious to see if those are all accurate, though," Wilson said.

"Do you still feel pain?" House asked quietly, looking not at his friend, but at the floor.

"Yes," Wilson answered, equally quiet. House nodded, and Wilson wondered where this was leading. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

House and Wilson talked long into the night. Most of the questions House asked were the typical ones Wilson had expected, about things you'd see in the movies or read in books. It was very late before he started asking the really interesting questions.

"Does it have to be human blood?" House asked.

"No, it doesn't have to be human," Wilson answered, reluctant to give more detailed answers unless House really wanted to know.

"But human blood tastes better," House filled in.

"Yeah." Wilson looked away when he agreed.

"How often do you need it? Blood, I mean," House continued.

"Well, usually just once a day is enough. Funny, but the weather seems to affect me. Sometimes in the summer I can go a couple of days, but in the winter it's definitely every day," Wilson said.

"Have you ever had to survive on something other than human blood?" House asked.

"A few times," Wilson confirmed. "I can only stay at one hospital for so many years before people start to question why I'm not getting any older. And then I've had to move on somewhere else. I've been back to med school twice to get caught up, that's usually when it's the hardest."

"Because once you're at a hospital you can get all the blood you need," House surmised.

"It's not difficult. I just arrange with the blood bank to let me have some of the blood that's reached its expiration date for transfusions. I tell them I use it for research and they hand it over," Wilson explained. House nodded again. It made perfect sense. In fact, until he'd seen Wilson drinking it, that was exactly what House had always assumed he used it for.

"And when you can't get it from a blood bank, what do you live on?"

"Animal blood. For a price, there's usually a butcher who will get it for you," Wilson said, grimacing slightly.

"Do you know kung fu?" House asked.

"What? No. Why would you ask that?" Wilson laughed.

"Vampires in movies always know that stuff. So besides not getting any older and not dying, you don't get any super powers? What a rip off," House commented.

"Well, I'm not sure it qualifies as super powers, but my reflexes are certainly improved. I can smell a lot more stuff than I did before, which is sort of funny considering I don't have to breathe anymore," Wilson said.

"Agile and keen sense of smell, I'm so jealous," House retorted. He looked up at the clock and realized it was already 5am. He ran a hand across his face, suddenly exhausted. Wilson noticed and stood up to go home.

"It's late. Why don't you get some sleep? We can talk about this some more tomorrow. I'll be around," Wilson said. House agreed and stood from the couch. As he limped his way toward his bedroom, Wilson made his way to front door.

"Jimmy," House called, and Wilson paused, hand on the door knob. "A couple of weeks ago, I noticed you looking at the scar on my neck. Why?"

Wilson took a deep breath and sighed it out again. He looked at the floor for a minute and then at House. "Do you want the Wilson answer or the vampire answer?"

"Both."

"I was thinking about how good you smelled when you got shot," Wilson said. House paled. "And I was thinking that you were getting a third chance at life. I'm never getting another chance, not at a real life anyway. I was thinking how pissed I'd be if you screwed this chance up too. You can probably guess which answer is which." Wilson walked out the door before giving House a chance to respond. Sometimes that was the only way to get the better of him.

**A/N: Okay, my muse kidnapped my fingers today and forced me to write multiple chapters of this story. Now, I've instructed her to kidnap your fingers and force you to type reviews. (She's been authorized to bribe you if necessary!)**

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	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

House arrived at work later than usual the next morning, or afternoon if you wanted to split hairs. As he limped toward his office, he noticed Cameron and Wilson standing in the hall. Whatever they were talking about, it was apparently pretty important, judging from the unusually intense look on Cameron's face. House paused to watch. He would normally only be mildly interested in what Cameron and Wilson were discussing, but watching his best friend the vampire talking to a woman who could recommend the title of a three hundred year old text on vampires from memory was the most interesting thing House had seen since, well, seeing Wilson down a pint of A-Positive.

House watched as Cameron relaxed visibly over the course of her conversation with Wilson. Whatever was troubling her, he was making her feel better. Cameron smiled at Wilson when he placed a hand on her arm. Wilson smiled back and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. It was funny that Cameron, the supposed vampire expert, had never figured out who Wilson really was. She couldn't have, of course, House reasoned. She would have run straight to Cuddy.

Cameron leaned into Wilson and hugged him tightly. House's eyes narrowed, as he watched Wilson inhale deeply. House limped the rest of the way to his office and sat behind his desk, twirling his cane. Seeing Cameron and Wilson together brought up an entirely new line of questioning for Wilson. 

What was with all the divorces? Was it just the same thing as working in the same place too long, afraid of being found out? Or was it something worse, like the longer you lived with someone they more they smelled like dinner? And how many times had he really been married? He'd been a vampire nearly a hundred years; he could have had dozens of wives. A harem, even. Did he have any children? Could vampires even have children? How much longer would he stay at PPTH? 

Until the possibility of Wilson's leaving was thrown right in House's face, he'd never thought about the fact that is more than just free lunches and easy pills that made him care about Wilson. They were friends. He was, in fact, the only friend House had. Forty eight years old and his only friend in the world was a vampire. Maybe Cameron was right, maybe he was a little crazy.

Cameron. Something about Cameron was bugging him. How did she not know Wilson was a vampire? She was a vampire expert. She certainly knew House suspected someone. She could put two and two together. Was she interested in Wilson? House hadn't really been serious when he suggested she was only interested in damaged men. It had just been something to say to make her angry and back off from him. Could he have been right? How do you beat a dying husband? You date a date man. House shook his head. Cameron was damaged, but not crazy. Was she about to figure out Wilson's secret? "You want lunch?" A voice interrupted House's ponderings. He looked up, his cane stopping mid-twirl. Wilson leaned into House's office from the hall and waited for an answer. House nodded and limped his way towards his friend.

"I think we have a problem with Cameron," House said as they walked toward the elevator.

"I thought you weren't interested in Cameron," Wilson replied, pushing the down button.

"Not that kind of problem," House snapped. "I think she suspects something about you."

"She doesn't suspect anything," Wilson said.

"She knows stuff about vampires, Jimmy. She's not stupid," House said, now stepping into the elevator with Wilson.

"She doesn't suspect anything." Wilson reiterated. He paused, waiting for the elevator doors to close. Once they were moving, he turned to House. "She already knows." 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

"I can't believe you told her and you didn't tell me," House rebuked Wilson. The elevator doors opened and Wilson made his way toward the cafeteria. House followed, now chasing Wilson, who normally walked a pace House could keep. Finally reaching Wilson in the cafeteria line, House grabbed a tray and stood behind him.

"How could you tell her and not me?" House demanded petulantly.

"I didn't tell her," Wilson said quietly. "She figured it out."

"And she came to you before she went to Cuddy?" House asked in surprise. He was certain that Cameron would have told someone as soon as she knew.

"No, actually she was concerned how you would take it when you knew. She wanted to make sure things were okay," Wilson told House. He looked at House's empty tray as they neared the cashier. "Not hungry?"

"Dammit," House said when he looked down. He'd walked the entire line without taking anything to eat. Annoying everyone behind him in line, he stepped backward until he reached the sandwiches and grabbed a Rueben. He also snagged a bag of chips and cup of Jell-O. Wilson waited at the cash register, looking not so much embarrassed as apologetic. House handed Wilson his tray and limped to a table in the corner, as far away from everyone else as he could get.

Wilson sat at the table and pushed House's tray to him. House and Wilson began eating in an uncomfortable silence. When House had finished his sandwich, in less than half the time it took Wilson to make a dent in his salad, he opened his chips and leaned back in his chair, surveying his friend.

"So, looking to make Cameron wife number four?" House asked. "Or is it more like an even dozen?"

"It's six, and no, I'm not interested in marrying Cameron," Wilson said. "Would it bother you if I did?"

"No, it wouldn't" House replied. "Six times? That's all? You've been married three times since I've known you. That math just doesn't add up."

"I'm going to answer this for you one time, and then I don't want to discuss it again," Wilson said and House noticed a shift in his body language. It was almost threatening. "When I joined the service, there was a girl. She said she'd wait for me, but she didn't. When I came home, I was depressed. I went looking for something and the first woman I …" Wilson let his voice trail off.

"Made you into a vampire," House finished. Wilson nodded.

"I wasn't exactly anxious to be with anyone else. I waited almost fifty years. I missed being close to someone." Wilson laughed bitterly. "Turns out you can't ever really be close to someone when you have to keep this secret. You can fake it for a while, but it never lasts." House put his chips down slowly. It was funny, it a sad sort of way. Wilson wanted a life and family and friends and couldn't ever really have them. And House could have had them, could have them even now, but never wanted them. House stood up, abandoning his Jell-O, when Wilson spoke again. "You know, I think that's why I'm always pushing you. Everything I've always wanted is right there for you to have and you won't take it. If life's a bitch, then death is her mother-in-law."

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	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It was a few days later before the full reality of the situation hit House. Wilson was a vampire, and Cameron knew all about it. Cameron didn't lie, or at least hardly ever. And Cameron only lied about little things. She'd never lied before about anything important. Or had she?

House pondered this little conundrum at every given opportunity. Finally he decided he'd just have to ask her. It would drive him crazy otherwise. He cornered her one night in the conference room as she was trying to leave.

She turned and looked at him, apprehensive. Nothing good had over come of her and House being alone. She had long since gotten over any romantic feelings she'd had for him. But that didn't mean she'd become immune to his games.

"Cameron, need to talk to you." House said. It wasn't a question.

"It's five o'clock. I'm going home. You can talk to me tomorrow," Cameron replied, lifting her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She dug out her keys and had made it most of the way to the door when his voice stopped her.

"It's about Wilson." 

Cameron turned slowly and looked at him leaning against the desk. She'd been waiting for him to finally ask her about this. Sighing, she placed her bag on the floor and sat at the conference table. "Okay. Get comfy."

House eyed her suspiciously, but took a seat across from her at the table. He hooked his cane on the table's edge and leaned forward so they could speak without being overheard by any passersby in the hall.

"How long have you known?"

"Since about six months after our date," Cameron answered.

"What does our date have to do with it?" House asked, confused.

"Wilson knew I was upset that it didn't go well," Cameron said, eyes on the table, the floor, anywhere but on House. "We went out a few times, and I figured it out," she stammered.

"How?" House pressed.

"His lips were cold," Cameron answered, finally looking at House. House stared at her while he took this information in. Cameron and Wilson kissing. He was surprised, again, that they both had been able to keep that from him for so long. 

"So what? Maybe he's just cold," House questioned her.

"They reminded me of my husband," Cameron said, now dropping the bombshell.

"Your husband? The dead one?" House asked and then cursed himself for asking such a stupid question. She only had one husband. "Wait, why should Wilson's lips remind you of your husband?"

"Because that's what he felt like when I kissed him the last time," Cameron said quietly.

"He was dead." House clarified.

"He was a vampire," Cameron corrected.

"Your husband was a vampire?" House repeated, shocked. This was just too weird, even for him.

"Not when we met. When they diagnosed the brain cancer, he told me he wasn't going to let it beat him. I was so proud of him; I thought he wanted to fight it. Then he checked himself out of the hospital and disappeared for a couple of days. When he came back he was different. He'd found a vampire, a woman, and offered himself to her. She made him like her and promised him an eternity free from pain and disease. He took it." Cameron shrugged, but House could hear the emotion in her voice.

"And he left you?" House asked, uncertain then why they weren't still together, or why her husband hadn't made her a vampire as well so they could be together.

"No. He stayed, but like I said he was different. I started doing some research and I found out some things he hadn't counted on." Cameron explained.

"Like what?" House asked, now intrigued.

"There are two different types of vampires, those who choose it, and those who have it done without against their will. It wouldn't seem like such a big difference but it turns out, it makes all the difference in the world. If you choose it, if you seek out a vampire to turn you like my husband did, you lose your soul the second you become. That's why he seemed so different. It wasn't really him, just his body walking around in our house," Cameron shivered slightly. House wondered briefly how that might feel.

"And if it's done against your will?" House asked.

"You don't lose your soul unless you take a human life to feed," Cameron explained. "It's why Wilson is still so normal. Because he still has his soul. He's never killed anyone to feed his blood lust."

"So what happened to your husband?" House asked.

"His need for blood was more than he could handle, "Cameron trembled slightly as she spoke. House noticed, but decided maybe it would be better for her to finally tell someone about it, whatever it was. "He went out one night and met a woman at a bar. He tried to attack her. She got away and called the police. I had to come and bail him out of jail. She agreed to drop the charges when I told her about his brain tumor. When we got home, he was so angry. I tried to make him see reason, but you can't reason with a corpse. He wasn't happy with animal blood. I had no choice," Cameron choked on those last words.

"You had no choice," House repeated, forcing her to say it.

"I killed him," Cameron replied, and the tears flowed. 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 

Weeks passed from the time Cameron made her confession to House. She suspected that he didn't tell Wilson, because Wilson continued to act as friendly to her as he always had. She never wanted to discuss it again, until the night that Wilson came to her.

"Cameron, do you have a minute?" Wilson asked, poking his head inside the conference room. Cameron nodded. "Come to my office, would you?"

Once in his office, Wilson closed and locked the door and drew the blinds. Cameron was concerned; she and Wilson didn't normally share such intimate quarters.

"House is worrying me," Wilson said.

"I haven't noticed anything unusual. Did you two have a fight about something?" Cameron asked.

"Not exactly," Wilson said, obviously frustrated. He was pacing and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "He keeps, hinting at me."

"Hinting at you? Are you sure it's not just a crush?" Cameron teased.

Wilson shot her a look and she stopped grinning. "He keeps mentioning how much his leg is bothering him. And yesterday, he told me he had a liver function test done and it's not good."

"Well of course you're worried. You've been telling him for years the Vicodin would eventually destroy his liver and now," Cameron paused, looking at Wilson closely. "And that has nothing to do with why you're worried, does it?"

Wilson smiled ruefully. "You're getting better at that every day," he commented. "He wants to ask me."

Cameron froze, stunned. Hadn't he listened to anything she'd said to him? "Are you sure?" Wilson only nodded. "You know you can't," she insisted.

"Of course I know I can't!" He shouted at her. "If I could, don't you think I would have done it years ago and spared him all this pain!" Wilson sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm not angry with you. And I'm not angry with him either. I'm just, I don't know."

"Wilson, listen to me. We made a deal, and I intend to stick by it no matter what. You know you can't do this. Do you think you can make him understand?" Cameron watched him carefully.

"That's not what worries me the most" Wilson confessed.

"What worries you the most?" Cameron asked.

"That if he asks me, I won't be able to say no," Wilson answered, panic and horror evident in his expression.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"House, need you," Cameron said when she found him in the clinic. She walked toward the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for him to catch up.

"A patient? Thank God. If I have to listen to one more person tell me they have avian flu because a pigeon crapped on their car two weeks ago, I'm going up to the clock tower with my rifle," House snarked as he entered the elevator. He noticed Cameron's lack of huffing and eye-rolling and was perplexed. That was exactly the sort of comment she hated. It was a good one, too. It had taken him the entire exam with his last patient to come up with it.

"Its Wilson," Cameron said shortly. She leaned forward and pressed the emergency stop button, a signal to House that whatever she wanted to talk about was incredibly serious. She turned to him and pinned him with her stare. "He'll never do it."

"Do what?" House asked, playing dumb.

"You know what. He'll never do it. No matter how much he wants to ease your pain, and believe me he does, what it would do to you isn't worth it. It would change who you are. You wouldn't be Greg House anymore. You'd just be a body. And so would he. Do you really want him to give up his soul just so you can be comfortable again?" Cameron asked.

"You've never lived with this kind of pain," House spat at her.

"No, just the kind you get from watching cancer slowly kill your husband, only to have to do it yourself when he decided it was better to exist forever than to die with dignity." Cameron shot back. "I already know you hate yourself for letting the pills win. How do you think you'll feel when you have to start feeding? Do you think that will be easier? And you do realize what will happen, don't you? You'll both start killing. Both of you. Not just you, Greg. Wilson. Jimmy. He'll start killing. If you care about him at all, you won't do that to him," Cameron said. She pressed the button again to start the elevator and got off at the next floor, leaving House alone with his thoughts.

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House sat alone in the dark for a long time that night. He was surprised when he looked at the clock on his phone and saw that it was nearly midnight. He stood from his chair and stretched, then began shutting off lights to go home. As he extinguished the lamp on his desk, he noticed the lights across the balcony were still on. Stepping outside, he saw Wilson sitting alone at his desk, sipping what House could only assume was a cup of blood. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite so sad.

He limped across the balcony and entered his friend's office, for the first time not caring what Wilson was drinking.

"Jimmy," House began. Wilson looked up, and House was struck by just how tired he appeared. "I know why you can't. And you're right. I won't ask. But don't ever offer, because I might not be able to say no."

House turned to leave and was almost through the door when Wilson's voice stopped him. "I'm sorry."


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

The years passed. Cameron and the other ducklings moved on from PPTH. Wilson and Cameron kept in touch, and she even corresponded with House now and again. Mostly Cameron wanted to make sure they were okay together, but also she wanted to make sure Wilson remembered her promise. 

Wilson remained the Head of Oncology for many years. Thanks to rapid advances in plastic surgery, he was able to remain at PPTH much longer than he'd remained at any other hospital. Eventually, though, people began to question just how good he looked, even with all the nips and tucks he'd admitted to, and he decided it was time to end things.

House was devastated when Wilson had to leave PPTH. He could have gone too, he supposed, but he was too much a creature of habit. Picking up anchor and moving somewhere new, even with Wilson, was too much for him. He was an older man now, in his early sixties, and the prospect was just too daunting.

Wilson was very careful not to go too far. He was lucky to be able to set up a small practice in Connecticut. He spent many weekends with House, but it was never quite the same. A few more years passed, and House and Wilson settled into a new routine.

And then came the day that he knocked but House didn't answer the door. Wilson used his key, and found him on the sofa. He had died in his sleep. Wilson sat on the floor and cried. He cried for his friend. He cried because he had never been able give House what he wanted, a day without pain. He cried because he knew he wouldn't be able to even attend the funeral. Too many people would ask questions. 

He picked up his phone and dialed Cameron. She cried too, when he told her. She agreed to come at once, and she did. He was afraid he would have to remind her of her promise, but he needn't have worried. It was all too clear when she arrived that she knew why he had really called her.

Days later, after Cameron had attended the funeral, she picked Wilson up. She drove him to the cemetery, so he could say his own goodbye to his friend. When he was through, she asked him if she was ready. He nodded.

They waited until nightfall, when they were sure they wouldn't bee seen. And then, as he stood over House's grave, Cameron kissed him, just as she had kissed her husband. She let her lips linger over his, her friend, as she drove the stake deep. And just as her husband had done, Wilson disintegrated into nothing more than dust and ash before her eyes. Granting his final wish, she dug a little hole and scraped his remains into it, burying him with the best friend he'd ever had. 


End file.
